


Don't remember me

by Carolineangel31



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Awesome Molly Hooper, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Epic Bromance, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Jealous Sherlock, Memory Loss, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Has A Crush, Sherlock Has a Plan, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Holmes Has a Heart, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper Fluff, Sherlock in Love, Slow Burn, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2018-10-07 18:40:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10366938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carolineangel31/pseuds/Carolineangel31
Summary: "She forgot about me, and damn, it hurts like hell." He felt a painful twinge in his chest and a horrible sinking feeling in the stomach. His heart got heavy, "I had her only to lose her again. After all this time, I've lost her. As usual. Because this is what always happens, she gets hurt and I'm about to lose my damn mind."After so many years, Sherlock had Molly Hooper.That is, until one tragic night changed everything.The plan on how to make Molly Hooper remember him and fall in love with him, starts over.Until you get too deep, you never know who really has your heart. You do not know how much your body craves a simple I love you.





	1. Do I know you?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello..  
> I love this couple.  
> I hope you like my story.  
> My language native is spanish, so i apologize for any mistakes in this chapter.  
> NO BETA. If someone know a person who wants help me, let me know, please.  
> Kisses and hugs.  
> Disclaimer: I don´t own Sherlock.

"Molly" Mary whispered softly.

She was breathless, pain burning everywhere was mixed into a cluster of sensations.

"Are you giving up" Mary's voice whispered again, "Do not give up".

"Molly, I need you to stay awake." A different voice seemed worried and restless as fingers kept feeling for her pulse, "Can you hear me?".

Ignoring that strange feeling of half despair and half pain that was quickly growing deep within her stomach, Molly manages to open her eyes before fainting.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Everything hurt, but at the same time she just felt... Numb. Everything happening around her felt unreal.

Eventually Molly managed to pry her eyes open. They hurt too, stinging with blurring tears, but the white unfamiliarity beyond the end of her nose resolved at last into a hospital room.

Hospital? What happened?

She was lying on her back, she realized, and tried to make sense of the four figures standing at the end of the bed. There were three people she didn't know, one woman and two blonde men. The other, Greg.

Greg Lestrade.

Wait. A taller, older and handsome Greg.

That's odd.

"Hey. Welcome back", Greeted the woman with short hair and dark eyes. "You were almost dead for a long time, you scared the hell of us."

"Sally" Greg scolded.

Molly's eyes widened, "Oh my God!"

Almost dead? Had something really bad happened? Is someone hurt?

"Molly?" Greg looked at her closely. "Are you okay?"

Deep breaths, she told herself. She took a deep breath and pursed her lips.

_"Molly", She could hear the voices screaming._

Voices that did not leave anyone's lips. She frowned, not able to distinguish between illusion and reality.

_"Molly, come with me, honey."_

_"Molly, come with me, honey."_

The voices would not shut up. It was too much. Just – too much. She could do nothing but close her eyes and breath.

"Something is different about her", Sally complained.

John gave her a worried look. "Something is wrong." His eyes did not leave Molly for a second. "Billy call the doctor and Sherlock. Hurry up! "

_"Molly, come with me, honey."_

_"Molly, I call for you"_

Tears began to fill her eyes and she swallowed a lump in her throat. Her eyes were still closed, and all she wanted was for the voices to shut up. She wanted to wake up, she was sure she was asleep.

She suddenly let out a sob.

"Breathe Molly, come on." The new voice was almost hypnotic. A new man.

One of his hands founded its way to her face, tenderly stroking her cheek. His eyes were locked on hers, solemn and earnest as he spoke. She blinked at him, dazed.

His eyes were full of commotion. "It's okay", he whispered. "I'm here, Molly."

His blue eyes were fixed on her, and she couldn't think nor move. She stubbornly stayed quiet, looking away from him, and she struggled not to flinch when he moved to stroke her cheek again. With the first brush of his thumb against her cheekbone, a shiver ran through her body. His skin was hot against her, just a simple touch igniting something foreign, yet so familiar.

She didn't know how long he stayed like that, but at some point, his lips are moving again. "Molly?" he asked, and although it seems like it's coming from far away, it still brings her back to reality.

He looks worried now, but she didn't understand, can't process what's happening. There's suddenly just too much going on in her head at once. There's thoughts about what she was hearing, or thinks she was hearing, because it could be her imagination, or just a dream, but at the same time it didn't feel like one.

She gave him a questioning look. "Do I know you?" Sherlock had pulled his hand away when she finished speaking, and she felt an emptiness run through her.

He laughed at the odd question and kissed the top of her head.

She couldn't subside a gasp of wonder. His beautiful eyes had her undeniably trapped in their magnetic hold. Her heart beat almost desperately, trying to understand this.

He was looking at her so lovingly when he responded, "Sherlock."

Her eyes were full to the brim with sincerity as she uttered four simple words, effectively shaking his defences. " Do I know you?"

He raised his head to look at her, confusion on his face.

Molly stayed silent, looking at him mutinously.

There was an old sneaking numbness, a feeling of loss, understanding that washes over him. "No". He denied, taken aback by her words.

She studied his face, watching as he struggled with something inside but did not know how to express it. "You don't remember me." There is too much pain reflected in his eyes.

"You don't know who I am?" He repeated his statement, and she shook her head.

The pain is quite evident in the way his eyes did not stray from her when she said she did not remember. Molly was particularly disturbed.

He was staring at her, eyes glassy with tears. "You don't remember me."

Molly shook her head, not knowing what she was denying, but wanting him far away from her, where he couldn't be disgusted by her display.

What she said was true, yet why did she feel like a thousand-pound weight had just settled onto her shoulders?

He pressed his lips together in understanding, nodding as he took a step back. Her throat went dry all of a sudden. She could easily drown in his eyes and he wouldn't care, but the look he gave her threw away any part of her heart that was left.

And then she just wanted cry.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

A sort of awkwardness filled the air. Five pairs of eyes watching expectantly.

She listened to their names. Sally, Billy, John. Sherlock and of course Greg.

"What hap-" She started to say, but her throat would not let her.

Her mouth tasted horrible, her body ached, and her ears were ringing. The IV made her arm feel funny, not in a good way.

"Here." John offered, giving her a cup of water.

She drank cautiously, but the water was soothing. Her throat did not feel quite so sandblasted anymore.

"What happened?" The words came out slow and low.

Greg was kind and gave her a warm smile when he asked, "Do you know where you are?"

"The hospital", She stated, "In London."

Greg shook his head. "Can you remember anything about last night?"

She struggled. It was confusing. But Molly tried to do it. "I went to a party with some friends."

"That's good", Greg's voice was soft and calm. His brown eyes scanned her and the occupants of the room, lingering a little longer on Sherlock.

She couldn't keep her eyes off of him. There's something about Sherlock that she couldn't quite figure out. He approached her again with more concern in his eyes, and she knew that everything had a deeper meaning to him than to the others. However, she had no idea why, and Molly was not sure that she wanted to know.

She frowned as she tried to remember something more, "Tom was there."

Sherlock stopped immediately, "What do you mean?" His posture stiffened as his eyes shifted to her. He was holding a breath that he did not even need, eyes widening in surprise.

"He was at Meena's party", She sucked in a deep breath before exhaling, "He wanted us to come back."

Sherlock clenched his fists as he watched.

"What did you just say?" Sherlock whispered, his mind going completely blank.

"We broke up a few days ago, but he was at Meena's party."

"Meena's party? Greg questioned as his eyebrows become furrowed. He was sure that Meena's birthday was not until december, and the actual month was february.

Her confused eyes flicked between the occupants of the room, "Yeah, her birthday."

Greg raised his eyebrows with an expression that said more than any words.

Molly continued her story, "Someone screamed too loud. " She said several times as her voice grew quieter and quieter. "And... Darkness."

Silence. Too much silence.

The doctor chose that moment to appear.

"What happened to me? I can't remember", She asked slowly, glancing at Sherlock again during the conversation.

"You were in a car accident, a heavy collision. You are a very lucky woman to have survived", The man, Dr. Hazel she managed to read on his scrubs, shook his head. "You lost consciousness and your heart flat lined for a bit but we managed to bring you back."

The reality came crashing down on her, except it couldn't be true. It just couldn't.

A car accident? No… That means that… Oh god! Where is Megan? Is she okay? Is she hurt?  Molly exhaled a shaky breath, clenching her trembling hands. She felt as if there was a massive hole in her heart.

"Molly-" The doctor began.

"Where is she? Is she hurt? Please tell me", Molly looked frantically at the black-haired man as he cleared his throat.

"Who, sweetheart?" His voice sounded lower than before.

"Megan Phillips", She pleaded quietly.

Sherlock's face was as stoic as before, but his eyes told a completely different story.

Megan Phillips, she was a Molly´s friend. A nurse who died murder by a psychopath man. About nine years ago. One of the first cases that he help it.

"Was Megan there, Molly?"

"Why are you answering my question with another question?" She asked the doctor, her voice becoming much stronger as anger laced her tone.

She felt the need to emphasise her point, "She was with me at the party"

There was a short moment of silence, but the doctor broke it before they could do so themselves.

"Don't stress about it. You will probably get the memory back in a few days, or there is a chance it will never return. This kind of minor head trauma can cause a memory hiccup. It's fairly common and not something to worry about. Pushing can actually make a memory harder to recover, so if you leave it alone, it may come back sooner."

"I don't like not remembering."

"Listen to your body. You'll need to take it easy at least a few days. We'll get you some anaesthetic."

Everything was a blur after that. It was hard to concentrate over the dull pain in her skull, but she made out words like 'concussion' before she closed her eyes.

_____---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

Sherlock was becoming impatient, his mind a bundle of ideas as his heart felt heavy in his chest.

He breathed deeply.

His hands moved a couple of times before his gaze fell on Melissa. Molly had awakened again, giving the doctor an opportunity to examine her thoroughly.   Now Greg's sister was in charge of delivering the news.

"How bad is it?" The words were forced out.

"The impact caused two broken bones."

Melissa looked at him and his heart felt even heavier in the face of silence.

"What haven't you told me?" Sherlock crossed his arms in exasperation.

The nurse rubbed the back of her neck, trying to ease out a simple explanation. "With this kind of accident we always expect some consequences. They're common in these cases."

"Just tell me already", Sherlock practically shouted.

Melissa stroked his shoulder gently, a motherly gesture of comfort.

"She can't remember; she has partial memory loss. She knows her family, and she remembers her name now along with a few other random facts about her life, but she can't remember anything else."

"Is it permanent?" Sherlock asked her quietly.

"It's most likely only short-term amnesia but there is a chance that it might extend to long term memory loss, meaning that she won't remember a major part of her life, depending on which area of the brain has been affected. We are keeping her in for a few days. In some cases, the memories simply return when least expected, but you can't force her to remember everything without risking any serious consequences."

Sherlock touched his lips and closed his eyes for a few seconds. Holy crap, what is he supposed to do? Her words were hard to listen to, leaving him shaking his head and beginning to walking.

"She will never remember me" He stated, voice shaking as much as his hands.

His own words sink in exactly seven seconds later and Sherlock hastily leaves the hospital.

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

 

It was the silence that welcomed him, his body moving with heaviness as he deposited his stuff on the floor. His head was a mess, so many thoughts developing that he was sure it was going to explode any moment.

All because of one name, Molly.

The only thing clouding his mind was her.

He couldn't help but think that he didn't deserve her.

Still, saying that it didn't hurt would be a lie, her words still stinging in his chest.

They echo in his head, his muscles tense and his jaw tightens. For several seconds, he is scared.

"Do I Know you?" She murmured.

Until you get too deep, you never know who really has your heart. You do not know how much your body craves a simple I love you.

His biggest regret is that he didn't say it out loud last night, and now everything is falling apart. Like it always does in his shit life. Something inside Sherlock is fractured, broken into pieces, and the look on John's face told him that he could see that.

"You're an idiot, Sherlock!" John shouted and Sherlock could not agree more with his thoughts.

It was not a question. He didn't try to answer.

John didn't give up, "You could not ignore this."

Sherlock gave him his best evasive look. Folded his arms like a petulant child, "Of course, watch me."

John rejected his diatribe with a nod, "That doesn't sound like fun to me."

He just rolled his eyes, beginning to talk about everything for a stretched five minutes.

John let out a sound between boredom exasperation, "You could at least try and look like you're paying attention."

"But I'm not, so why bother?" He said seriously, "Lying is bad, John"

"Mate" John began. "She is-"

"I know", Sherlock yelled in exasperation, "Damn it, I know"

"Then stop only thinking of you."

"God, please no. Okay?" He argued, beginning to move away from John, "Don't say anything, she doesn't remember me, John. She doesn't remember anyone", Sherlock whispered softly, his eyes reflecting despair. John could see a million regrets and terrible guilt etched on Sherlock' face. It made his heart ache. "She forgot about me, and damn, it hurts like hell", He felt a painful twinge in his chest and a horrible sinking feeling in the stomach. His heart felt heavy, "I had her only to lose her again. After all this time, I've lost her, as usual. Because this is what always happens, she gets hurt and I'm about to lose my damn mind."

John was smart enough to keep quiet.

"Somebody seriously needs to nail your ass to the wall."

"Go away!" He let out when he saw the brunette approaching. She no longer listened to him or laughed at something ridiculous that John had said. Life sucks, Sherlock noted.

"I'm not going anywhere", Sally assured him earnestly, "And you can't force me." She added, folding her arms stubbornly.

"Well, if we're going to play this game, I was here first."

"Calm down." John suggested, gripping his arm.

"I'm trying to talk to you. I am on a mission that your friends have called intervention", Sally confessed, "Sometimes it's necessary to see a woman's point of view. Are you afraid?" She asked quietly.

"Afraid of what?"

"That you care too much to see her suffer because of you. God knows how many bad things you've been through, how many bad things we've all been through. You're afraid of hurting her somehow."

"How deep of you. Did you get it on some medical website? Psychology for beginners, maybe?" Sherlock snapped.

"I'm serious!"

"So am I!", He replied, irritation evident in his tone, "I'm just a different person when I'm with her", He finishes, ignoring her appreciative look and shrugging. That's all. He had let it out.

Sally looked at him, her facial expression softening and a slight smile appears on her lips "Do you love her?" She asked so quietly that it was almost a whisper.

Yes. Of course he did, and he has known it for some time, long before something happened between them. He did not respond, he merely nodded once at her.

"If you want her," The brunette began, her voice caught her attention. "Then you have to fix this."

"Don't tell me", Sherlock sneered, faking a smile and applauding sarcastically. "Do you think I don't know that?"

"You're an idiot."

His heart rate increased, "What's that supposed to mean?"

John could see where his friend's mind was drifting and placed a hand on his Sherlock' shoulder.

"She loves you Sherlock, even if she can't remember you. Dammit!", Sally was angry. "She was always be there for you. Molly never allowed any of us to give up on you. She believed in you."

Every nerve in his body felt like it would explode with that statement.

"And now she needs us. She needs you. She's a frightened woman."

He clenched his jaw, able to feel the rapid beating of his own heart.

Sally continued, "We will not leave her alone. I don't care if you're scared or you feel sad, because dammit, she needs you. And I'll kick your ass if you don't help her."

"Sally" John scolded her.

Tears run down Sherlock' face, "She's right"

"You just need a plan to make Molly remember you and fall in love with you again". He appeared hurt but does not argue with John.

"You will not give up Holmes", She paused licking her lips, "We will not leave you. Got it?"

"Uh huh" Sherlock answered.

His two friends smiled. Two real smiles.

"Good. The plan on how to make Molly fall in love with you, starts over. "

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

His steps were slow and cautious, but he was true to what he believed in, and Sherlock believed in her. She would come back to him. He would sure about that. He couldn't stop himself, he looked at her lovingly. Her untidy curls were in her face, but he didn't move them away. Everything about her was intoxicating.

He took her face in his hands gently. "Since I met you, I stopped believing in coincidences. I knew because I had to, had to find someone to change my life, my way of thinking. You've taught me so much and there is so much to learn." He said aloud, but only silence hears his confession, "I don't know what, or who, I have to thank that you have crossed my path, but you're the best I could have found. I've looked at you in millions of ways and I've loved every single one."

"I wish I was brave enough to say this while you're awake", He whispered in her hair, "I'm in love with you Molly Hooper."

 


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello...  
> First I want to thank all those people who read my story; your comments have been really wonderful and very motivating for me.  
> It is amazing the support I have had. Thank you very much indeed, means a lot to me that they like my story. I really thank all who have encouraged me to continue this story.  
> I had to divide this chapter in two. The first part focuses on what you read, and the following is a conversation between Sherlock and Molly.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think.  
> No beta.   
> A big hug. Kisses, blessings and good vibes for everyone.  
> Disclaimer: I don´t own Sherlock.

_"You can forget what happened but not how you felt."_

_Someone said forgetting was a blessing._

_She believed it for a long time._

_She used to beg the deities of the world to let her forget._

_To grow up and forget everything._

_When loss touches her whilst she was being so young, that unbearable pain was forcing her to leave the past behind and she just wanted to forget everything._

_Forget them._

_Forget herself in the process._

_But it never happened._

_She was jealous of how easy it was for some people to keep the past away, to keep the memories at bay. To keep the pain aside._

_Now she cursed her fate. Her wish had been fulfilled, but the pain has not gone away. It was worse, was a kind of half-blessing. A curse. One where she had forgotten who she is, but not her past. The painful memories still accompanied her, clung to her. Took her root._

_She could remember all those moments and people who are no longer with her._

_"Molly, my child" She started…_

It was a knock on the door and a sudden entrance to the room that woke her up. Her eyes widened in surprise and panic, evaporating rapidly as she saw the silhouette of the nurse beside her bed.

The woman with warm eyes checked her vital signs  and the proportion of the drugs that ran through her veins, then she was gone.

Like everyone else.

It was a cloudy night. The rain threatened to fall on the streets, Molly noted while she looked at the horizon from her window.

The voices had stopped, she realized. That was good. She was able to remove auditory hallucinations from the list of things that seem to affect her.

However, her head was still spinning, millions of unanswered stagnant questions clinging to her chest. What had happened? Why did not she remember anything yet?

She opened her eyes, regretfully beginning to catalogue the bruises she could feel. There were plenty of them, hips, and arms and legs, but none that looked too serious.

Collision by scope is the biomechanical explanation to her accident. This usually occurs when a vehicle is stopped and is hit from behind by another vehicle. The body tends to go forward by transmission of the energy of the colliding vehicle to the occupants of the vehicle hit. The thorax is accelerated forward along with the seat back, however, the head responds to this movement with respect to the neck (not accelerated with the rest of the body) producing backward hyperextension if the back of the head has not been raised properly. That would explain the headache, and the bruises scattered on her body.

But it by no means explains what happened to Megan. Nobody spoke about Megan Phillips. Not even a simple explanation about her.

Its existence also pretended her with another problem. She hesitated.

As far as she knew… she was with Megan at the party.

Molly frowned.

And Tom.

She shook herself, trying to refocus her thoughts.

She needed to know what had happened. And the answer was not within the four walls of a hospital room.

Megan had been her friend since uni, her support in many difficult times. Life had reunited them since, and fate led them to work together.

Molly needed to know the truth.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

It took her fifteen minutes to find her own purse, and another fifteen to get dressed. A cotton skirt and a lilac blouse would do the job.

She did not take into account the paradigms that were raised about her. Although her mind did not seem to remember the hospital, her body knew how to move through the aisles and away from the curious glances.

Remarkable. Very remarkable indeed.

But she did not stop. Not until her feet touched the firm ground and her skin felt the cold air.

Her mind was still a mess. Even the taxi driver noticed her condition, but he was kind enough to refrain from commenting.

She thanked him for it. She did not answer questions for which she had no answer.

 

* * *

 

 

Seven minutes later she managed to pay and get away from the man's gaze.

Unfortunately, what she found alone made her heart beat louder.

Clearly it was no longer Megan´s property. This place was different.

A house in the middle of a vacant lot greeted her.

It was not until her eyes roamed the place, that the parts of the puzzle come together.

Goodbye to all the memories of afternoon tea, pajama parties, and planting of wild flowers in her huge garden.

No. All that was replaced with the remains of the house, black walls and ashes clinging to what used to be a beautiful garden.

A burnt house. A fire.

She could not go one step further.

Her body tried, with all its might, to stop her. Her heart seemed to stutter in her chest, attempting to keep up with the pure terror she felt. Molly hadn't encountered more fear than the average person in her life but she could imagine that getting in a car crash, or speeding into a head-on collision was on par with the absolute horror of putting her heart on the line.

"A real waste". His voice was strong behind her. "It used to be the most beautiful house in the neighborhood. Such a tragedy".

She felt a pang in her chest as the words left the old man's lips and reached her ears.

"What..." Her voice stammered. "What happened?"

He could not have been over 65 years old. His hair was gray and his appearance somewhat rocky. But he in no way meant danger. He watched her carefully as he began to speak.

"Nine years ago, the medic – that was what he used to call himself – came to the neighborhood. He was so nice. The ladies were smitten with him. Nevertheless, he got obsessed with her."

Molly's heart was beating far too fast.

The man lowered his head, a sigh escaped from his lips. "She was such a nice young woman, a nurse who worked not far from here; her only mistake was not to fall for the man's charm." His next words were serious. "They found her dead the morning of the twenty-eighth of February, 2008; she was the fourth victim of that psychopath. The house burned the day before."

She swallowed hard, her eyes glimmering. Nine years ago. But that didn't make it easier to hear.

This couldn´t be happening. She had to be dreaming.

Sordid pain. Nails crashing into the skin. That would leave a bruise.

"Are you alright?"

Her breathing came to a stop. However, she did not show it.

A mask covered her face as she smiled. A perfect smile.

"Everything is perfect." She stressed the final word and batted her long eyelashes.

He gave her a curious look but said nothing more. His footsteps echoed as he walked away leaving her deeply affected.

Her body felt heavy, and a pain settled all over her chest at the thought of Megan, nice, gorgeous Megan. Her only friend for years.

 

 

* * *

 

 

She was sitting on the sidewalk, when the rain began. Ironically, the state of the climate coincided with her present state. Molly felt broken, fragmented like the raindrops that ran down her skin.

And then she became aware of his presence.

It was Sherlock... Sherlock in his scarf and Belstaff. Sherlock with a worried look on his face.

He seemed to be debating with himself the moment he stood up, and walked towards her. "And who in their right mind would not?" Molly repeated in her mind.

They looked at each other for what seemed an eternity. His heart was pounding at the same time, wondering when she was going to throw the bomb on him. There was something very wrong in her vibrant eyes - tonight they were dark and sad. Seeing her like this was agonizing. He wanted to touch her, hold her, and calm her down. But she looked fragile, as if the slightest touch would break her in a million fragments.

_You have to control yourself. You haven't even started yet and you are already overdriving._ He said to himself. He was her protector. But he felt like her executioner.

After several minutes he found himself standing in silence, near Molly who was sitting on the sidewalk, her gaze turned to him once more, the painful tears forming in her eyes, giving them a terrible moisture.

"Can I sit with you?" he asked.

He did not receive a response from her. She simply looked at him from under her lashes, her eyes sad and tired, she looked so different than usual that the vision caused immense pain to Sherlock.

"Can I sit with you?" he asked again. As if he really needed her permission to do anything. When Molly motioned for him to do it, he did it very quickly, looking at her for a long moment.

There were warm tears running down her cheeks, she could feel them, although she hadn't realized that she'd started crying. Embarrassed, she wiped her face dry with the backs of her hands.

"What are… She had to stop and swallow several times. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you, Molly, what else?" His voice sounded strange, a mixture of deep agony and desperation trying to be contained, waiting to be released.

"I'm fine, I just need some air." She responded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Sherlock nodded, watching her closely.

"You need to get back to the hospital," he said, sounding calmer but very grim. Molly blinked her eyes clear and squinted up at him.

"I don´t want to go to the hospital. "

He stared at her for a moment, looking utterly helpless. "Molly…"

She looked so frightened, so alone, so individual, so hurt. As if she was broken. In addition, her eyes poured tears. She looked so in need of physical closeness that it was suddenly unbearable for him. And although he did not understand it, he himself had to enjoy it, just to keep the demons at bay a bit longer.

He moves forward and cups her face in his hands, trying to sound both commanding and comforting as he says, "Shh, Molly, look at me."

He did not know what to do. He really wanted to be there for her, he was really trying. But to comfort someone else? Who would have thought that he, Sherlock Holmes would ever be comforting someone?

The answer came to him as Molly let out a choked sob. And in an instant the man's arms clung gently to her.

She did not run away, she did not retreat, he simply stared at those disconsolate brown eyes, knowing that the time had come. A tear ran down her cheek as he hugged her and held her small body in his arms, caressing her hair as more tears came.

"Shh," he whispered, calming her with soft touches as his hands ran down her back. "It´s alright, everything will be fine," he assured her.

His fingers came to frame her face once more, and his thumbs gently ran over her cheekbones before one of his hands moved to her jaw, her neck. It vaguely occured to him that he's subconsciously doing what she used to do to soothe him, long before all that madness happened to them. "Just breathe," he whispered. "Breathe."

She whispered through tears. "Just... don't go."

"I will not," he whispered again as he pushed the strand of hair away from her eyes. "I'm here, sweetheart"

"I just…" were the words of Molly drowning. There was heat spreading in the heart of Sherlock, one that joined the existing pain. His grip on Molly tightened as he tried to hold onto both of them.

Sherlock gave her a look full of so many emotions that Molly did not know how to handle it.

Flashes of past memories continued to invade her mind and a sea of emotions threatened to escape from her eyes. She swallowed and moved forward, pulling her arm around her as she pressed her face to his chest, inhaling the scent of his cologne. As if by instinct, his other arm wrapped around her to embrace her completely. There was something about him that smelled of comfort, home, security, being in his arms and wrapped in his heat is a fact that brought her to the edge, silent tears started staining his shirt. Sherlock looked at her, feeling the dampness of the burning through the tissue of his skin.

He stopped as Molly buried her face in his chest. "I'm sorry" was the only answer Sherlock could manage to provide.

Molly looked into his eyes, wondering if his eyes were a mirror image of her own. He was different, too. He was broken like her.

Renounced, she wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him as if there were no tomorrow, because it felt like there was not.

Eventually, her breathing finally slowed down, and Sherlock felt her relax. He was so relieved he felt like an actual weight had been lifted off his chest.

"Molly?"

A few seconds passed, and then she finally opened her eyes, the incredible baby brown looking up at him.

"Hey there," he chuckled.

"Hi." She weakly smiled, too, and he had never wanted to kiss her more than in that moment.

"Are you okay?"

She nodded, her eyes remaining on the floor.

He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly against him once more. She felt the press of his lips against her hair before he whispered so quietly she could hardly hear him. "You'll be fine, Molly Hooper,"

And at that moment, it was when he finally realized something he had known all along. He had never admitted it before, at least not until the night before.

He truly loved Molly Hooper.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TBC.... 
> 
> If you take time to read, you please take the time to comment. Let me know what you think.   
> I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter. 
> 
> I invite you to read my other story: You, me, and my mom Think about it, Sherlock.   
> Kisses and hugs. 
> 
>  
> 
> In the next chapter: 
> 
> "You're everything to me, Molly." He wanted to say. "I've never been so afraid of losing something as much as that night. You are the last piece of humanity that I have left in this world. If I lost you, I do not know what I would do." But he knew she was not ready to listen to his open heart. So he just shook his head and gave her a grimace very close to a smile.  
> "I was a little worried about you, that´s all".


	3. Chips and her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello...  
> First I want to thank all those people who read my story; your comments have been really wonderful and very motivating for me.  
> It is amazing the support I have had. Thank you very much indeed, means a lot to me that they like my story. I really thank all who have encouraged me to continue this story.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think.  
> No beta  
> A big hug. Kisses, blessings and good vibes for everyone.  
> Disclaimer: I don´t own Sherlock.

_Sometimes the person who you least expect is able to turn your world on its head in a flash, and you are scared to know that your heart is in the hands of someone other than you._

_It frightens you to look back and begin to understand where all the feeling and attachment came from. Is it spontaneous, or is it when that person looks at you?_

But he knew that it did not matter to be afraid to try, because if his heart could get excited by just hearing her voice or feeling her presence, he understood that nothing in the world was better than being wrapped in her arms and feel the attachment… that soft, slow caress of her hand to rest on his waist. It was that sensation which made the world stop spinning for a minute. It was that tingling when he saw her eyes flutter in the light, and her golden smile conquer his chest again. That was the chemical reaction he has heard about, that he was feeling now by clearing his thoughts and analysing what the word love really means. It was opportunity, it was sincerity, excitement, surprise, and that's exactly what Sherlock Holmes must have yelled at Molly Hooper.

That he was not really sure where the road will take them, that she may hate him tomorrow, but today he loved her, as he had never loved anyone before. That fear was still there, but it was not a bad fear, just an incentive that made him think that he did not want to lose her, that he wanted to be there for her.

That was why he kept running his fingers in quiet circles on her back. Her embrace was warm and gentle. Something that somehow brought peace to his own undone world. Her breath tickled his neck, and he soon noticed that he had begun to feel nervous, so much so that the beating of his own heart seemed to thunder in his ears.

He made an effort to pull himself together.

"Fancy some chips?"

Molly frowned. "What?"

"I don't think you've eaten a proper meal all day and it is common knowledge that the food offered by the hospital is not really edible," he stated.

The feeling of déjà vu came to him. And Sherlock was about to come up with a new excuse when Molly raised her eyebrows, a gleam in her eyes. "Go ahead; do not let me stop you"

He let out an excited sigh.

That was as far as he could pull together. Fuck.

He stood by her side as they walked, she said nothing else and he dared not say anything that could trigger more of her tears.

He did not want to stop looking at her, not even when they were sitting in the cab. He could not help but notice her expressions of surprise as she watched the streets, the wrinkle of her brow as she passed through a place she considered unknown. He noted the grimace of her lips as she found herself lost in what he thought was a memory.

He could not keep his gaze away; she was painfully tangible at his side. Her closeness was a memory that he thought he had almost lost.

He wanted touch her. So badly.

This was something he had never experienced before, this impetus, unwavering need to comfort someone.

To comfort her.

For a moment they looked at each other. Sherlock wracked his brain to try and find out what she was thinking.

She seemed to read his thoughts. "It's strange. It feels like seeing the city for the first time." She paused. "And at the same time there are similar things. Things I remember. "

Sherlock looked genuinely puzzled for a moment.

"Eventually your memories will come back. Try not to overwhelm yourself, Molly."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I thought you could use a person to talk to." He answered with a calm voice, though his face was grave.

She did not say anything, but by the way she looked at him, he knew she wanted to talk to him. Her eyes lingered on the corners of his mouth, apparently searching for a smile, but she continued to stare at him. That lily of butterflies, which he had not felt in years, appeared, giving battle against his stomach. A battle that unfortunately his stomach seemed to lose.

"Molly, I can practically hear your brain running overtime."

She tilted her head nervously." "I… It sounded a little crazy"

He could sense her anxiety, and responded by encouraging her. "There is nothing that you could say to me that sound you are crazy"

Her lips twitched and she shook her head in understanding.

"Talk to me, Molly," he murmured as he reached out and gently took her hand. He had no idea what he was doing, but he was set on following his instincts.

Her hand did not flinch away from him. It was the fourth time in three days that he had given thanks to the heavens. He must have been becoming a man of faith.

"I'm afraid I'm going to discover that I've been a terrible person." She swallowed, looking away from him instinctively. "That everyone hates me. That my dreams haven't been fulfilled. That I'm trapped in a life that makes me unhappy" She was staring at his shirt, avoiding eye contact, as if she was too nervous to look at him. "Sherlock, I am afraid that I became the person I never wanted to be."

After a moment of silence, he spoke again.

"There is no one in this world who could hate you, Molly Hooper." He leaned forward slightly as if he was about to tell her a secret. "You are a talented woman, appreciated and recognized in a field dominated by men. Your scientific works can only be described as pieces of art – in terms of medicine, at least." He laughed slightly, trying to ease her, but when she didn't react, he continued. His voice was calm and soft. "You are passionate in your area, so much that you love to teach. Even to those group of idiots that call themselves your apprentices. I'm sure you have a good life, Molly"

"Wow, all that? Nothing bad?" she joked.

He seemed amused. "Your sense of humor is really inappropriate"

She laughed, despite the fact that the conversation was serious. Molly blamed the weariness that was gradually beginning to take over. "Seriously, I…" she murmured.

"Don't worry, Molly," he whispered quietly before choosing the exact words she needed to hear, as he always did. "An exceptionally strong woman like you can overcome anything"

The trust in his voice scared her more than anything else. "Thank you, Sherlock."

* * *

 

The place was oddly deserted, considering that this was a Wednesday night.

It was a mix between cozy and rustic. Several simple tables were dotted around the room, as well as a dark wood bar containing five high chairs. The room was filled with the pleasant smell of wood, pine, and mint. Soft music was tinkling in the background, nothing too heavy.

He knew she liked this place. It reminded her of her father. Made her feel at home.

"I would not have taken you for someone who likes these kinds of places," Molly said skeptically, taking a seat in front of him.

"Someone once told me to try new things." He smiled. One of those special smiles that he reserved for her. "There is something about this place that I find fascinating."

"They must be an important person, if you follow their suggestions."

Sherlock took a moment to respond. When he finally opened his mouth, he spoke slowly.

"She is."

Molly looked at him, though she was unable to add anything to the conversation.

Sherlock was kind enough to say a joke, just for her own peace of mind.

"Loss of memory is the prize at the bottom of each bottle of whiskey."

Molly laughed.

"The doctor believes that by re-entering my life, it will lead to neuronal activation and will allow me to remember everything. Since the brain forms new neuronal pathways, helping the neural circuit to grow will allow it to create connections with other pathways." She looked at him resignedly, letting out a sigh. "It might take a while."

"A journal," Sherlock said suddenly.

"Umm… what?" Molly said.

"I have read a couple of testimonials from people who have experienced post traumatic amnesia, their condition has been drastically reduced with the use of personal notebooks, journals. " He spoke like an expert on the subject. "Fred Camper, fifty-seven, a family man and worker for the Dutch pharmaceutical industry, was the victim of a collision two years ago. Margaret Holland, twenty-five years old. Full-time model and photography lover. Car accident. Three years ago. Hugo Perkins, twenty, an economics student at Harvard University. Motorcycle accident, one year and five months ago." His voice sounded a little hoarse by now. "All have described their experiences in fragmented way in notebooks for a period of time between six months and a year. The results have been remarkable, allowing a more efficient cognitive function. And an even more satisfactory recovery," he continued. "I think you should try it."

Molly remained silent, thinking about his words. He clearly had made an effort to research online. And taking the trouble to read all those testimonies for her.

Somehow, that made her feel appreciated.

Appreciated by a man who she barely knew.

A man whose blue eyes could challenge the magnificent color of the sky, and cause armies to plunge into war.

Molly was not sure why Sherlock was interested in her. He was someone who most likely had women queueing up for him, if the looks of the waitresses and female clients were any indication.

There was something there, something about his manner that she could not put her finger on. But it made her feel strange.

Her eyes tore away from the cup of tea was scalding her hands and turned to rest on him.

He was smiling at her, almost as if he knew what she was thinking. God, she hoped he would not develop telepathy or anything. She wouldn't be surprised.

"I think personal journals are an incredible idea," she said quickly, unsure of how long had passed since he had spoken.

He nodded his head, quietly pleased by her gratitude

"It would be good for me to know other things too, about you and me... I mean..." She flushed and looked away, embarrassed.

He laughed. "You and me what?" he said.

She smiled and good Lord, he loved her smile. He had been waiting for her for what felt like years. He felt the muscles in his face contract, clench, as his mouth was widening. Now he was smiling. He had never seen himself smile before; he probably looked as ridiculous as his love for Molly was. But underneath it all, there was an amazing feeling. There was no better feeling than to see her smile.

"How did we meet?" she asked curiously.

Sherlock's tongue slipped out to wet his lips.

There was a story there, no doubt. She looked at him but he only raised his eyebrows.

"In Bart's. We work together."

She lowered her gaze. "Are you a pathologist?"

He smirked. "Pretty close. I'm a consulting detective."

"So, I analyse the bodies while you solve the mysteries?"

"Exactly," he said. He gave her one of his sudden grins.

"I bet there's a few you can't solve."

He raised his eyebrows, then shifted his gaze and studied the man sitting next to them for a couple of minutes.

"Irish. Thirty-five years old. He just moved to the city. He recently divorced. His wife cheated on him with his best friend, yet he thinks he was to blame. He has one cat and two canaries. He is a lover of gardening, and is fairly sure that the waitress will sleep with him. She reminds him of his ex-wife." He leaned in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, his lips pursed in a satisfied smile for having proven his point.

She opened her mouth in astonishment. Definitely a telepath.

"You are amazing."

"I'll take that as a compliment." He shrugged "John and Gavin used to say that"

"Gavin?"

"Yes, you know, Lestrade."

"Oh, you mean Greg."

"Who's Greg?" Again he laughed.

The waitress brought their food over, and they paused, unwilling to share their private conversation.

"I hope the food here is much better than the hospital," Sherlock said.

"I have to say, it smells delicious." She smiled gratefully as she took a bite. "And tastes even better. You are a life saver."

Sherlock's face was full of innocence. "'Saver of lives' appears under 'special abilities' in my résumé."

Molly was proud to still not have blushed.

 

 

 

* * *

 

It was strange, but she could guess his movements. Even without looking at him, she could see his gaze fixed on her, so caring it was almost a caress. For a moment she thought about turning to him and holding his gaze until he pulled away, but she changed her mind and decided not to give him that satisfaction.

"Sherlock?" She breathes his name like it was sacred. "How did you know I was at Megan's?" Molly studied him closely as she waited for his answer. When he did not reply, she continued: "Why were you looking for me?"

It was his turn to avoid eye contact with her. He had thought of her almost obsessively since the previous night, and he knew that if she could give him a chance, Sherlock could give her the whole truth. The problem was, he was not sure he wanted to. Once he did, he could never take it back.

"You're everything to me, Molly," he wanted to say. "I've never been so afraid of losing something as much I was that night. You are the last piece of humanity that I have left in this world. If I lost you, I do not know what I would do." But he knew she was not ready to listen to him pour his heart out. So he just shook his head and grimaced.

"I was a little worried about you, that's all".

To be fair, he wasn't lying.

"Thank you," she murmured, astonished that Sherlock could care so much.

"What?"

She looked him in the eye, and for the first time she could see the genuine concern there.

"Thank you. For looking for me." His face filled with surprise, and suddenly his expression was as transparent as the water in her glass.

He ran an agitated hand through his hair and then stood up. "Never mind. On your feet, Molly, time to go."

Then he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek – briefly, firmly, as if to underline something.

She said goodbye. His world became opaque, without light. It became filled with silence and disaster as he watched her walk slowly toward to her hospital room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh! Troubles… Emotional Sherlock  
> I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter. Kisses and hugs.  
> If you take the time to read, please take time to comment.   
> Feel free to let me know what you think. Questions, suggestions, opinions, anything goes.   
>  Hugs and kisses.


	4. Mental advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst, Sherlock´s mental palace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. I'm back. Thank you all for your comments. I'm really glad you like this story.  
> I hope you enjoy reading.  
> Hugs and kisses.  
> Disclaimer: I don´t own Sherlock.

The band fell from his eyes and it was as if he woke from a dream, one that had lasted for years.

He opened his eyes clouded by the darkness and realized how silly he had been.

He tried so hard to live to the fullest, that he forgot to focus on the small details, to appreciate the good things that life had.

He thought she would give up everything for him in a moment, in every situation, no matter what he did. That was something he was clear about. That was his first mistake, a common mistake.

He thought that his present would continue as he wanted it, that what he had with her was eternally secure. That was his second mistake.

When he began to take her for granted, he failed to see the true importance of everything that surrounded her. He stopped striving for what he wanted and turned his face and heart to the true essence of life and love.

He was never fatalistic, but he was too blind to understand how fragile the thread of his happiness could be.

Only, when he finally understood, it was too late.

Why did she have to forget everything the moment he understood?

Unfortunately, no one warned him that eternal regret is the cost of good times.

And now that's all he did… regret.

His mind could only conjure a phrase: Say what you mean when you have the feeling and the opportunity. Tomorrow could be too late.

And Dear Lord, he was late.

His steps were slow, tired. The overcoat that he held on his body for a while (just because it smelled like her) now clung to the chair by the window.

His hands rested on his knees as he sat down on the couch.

Toby purred a couple of times near him, but slunk away after realizing that his footsteps did not sound like that of his mistress.

Now even Molly's cat seemed to hate him.

_Guilty. He listened in his mind._

_Guilty. He felt the pang in his heart._

Sherlock frowned, went back to doing his best to not think about Molly Hooper in his mind palace.

And failing miserably.

"You do not fool anybody here, Sherlock boy". The voice was making fun of him.

 Her lips were the first thing he saw, red and full of lies and truths.

Lies that fall in love. Truths that hurt the hearts of the unfortunate souls who have had the fleeting joy of falling into her web of passion.

Her hair was tied up, a simple headdress atop her head. Her green silk dress brushed the floor. And she was there looking dangerously sinful.

The Woman. Irene Adler.

Sherlock did not answer. He just waited for the sarcastic remark he knew would come from her.

"Fool. You take her for granted."

Her lips curved into a satisfied smile as she saw his perfect façade fall into a grimace.

"Did I ask your opinion?"

"Really?" she asked in an ironic tone.

Sherlock looked at her in bewilderment, so the woman turned to look at his beautiful blue eyes. "What happened, Romeo? Too much for the girl?"

"That is none of your concern". He replied, keeping his voice down.

Irene let out a bubbly laugh.

"So this is what it's going to be then? Are you just going to keep lying to yourself?" She put her hands on either side of Sherlock.

"Shut up," Sherlock snapped waspishly.

His movement was quick, placing two paces between them. She simply nodded, disappointed.

"You should have a sign of mood swings."

His answer was accompanied by a grimace. "You have the gift of getting the worst of me."

She laughed and his level of discomfort only increased. "You know I find your distaste for me, really funny." She smiled.

He pouted.

"Well, you can never have everything you want, Mr. Holmes"

"But I always have what I want," he declared.

"This shows that it is not so." Her voice was full of caution. "There will come a day when your little bubble will burst." Irene gave him a sad look. "And I'm sure your goldfish" – her voice filled with disdain and bitterness when she pronounced the nickname – "will not be there for you. She'll run the farthest away from you. Why, that's what everybody does, Sherlock. Leave you."

If the Woman had hit him in the face, it would have hurt less.

 

 

 

 

* * *

Because what she was saying was true, he did take Molly for granted. He did. For years. Nothing could change that fact, nor erase it. Not even being in his mind palace for hours. That fact perhaps made it worse. Now he could play with each of his memories, examine them, and see what he did wrong. How he hurt her and how he thought she was nothing more than an ordinary woman. Just a means to an end.

_"She'll run the farthest away from you."_

That's what he deserved.

"You're thinking about it right now, aren't you?" asked Mary slyly.

Mary, the perfect Mary. The spy who sacrificed herself for him. The friend, the nurse, the mother, the love of John's life.

Goddammit Mary.

Goddamn his mind palace.

Her next words were filled with sincerity that he rarely heard. " don't believe her."

He let out a sigh. His gaze shifted from the couch to her.

For a moment he closed his eyes. "You always manage to catch me at my lowest point."

Mary took a step forward, and reached out to squeeze Sherlock's hand.

"I have always seen you as you are," she said. "In the good and bad moments." Her touch was warm and had am oddly calming effect on him. "You are an incredibly intelligent man, for the most part. And absurdly blind other times." She let out a laugh. "But you are Sherlock Holmes and I love you."

His eyes softened, as he gave her a tender smile. "Thank you, Mary."

"Well, look at that. The Grinch's heart just grew three sizes today."

"Maybe two." He looked at her as he joked. "My ego is not as careless as yours."

She looked at him for a long moment. Sherlock could almost swear she was just waiting for another of his comments. Or maybe she was analysing him.

"There are things that never change."

Mary smiled, instinctively wrapped her arms around his figure. Just when she realized Sherlock's gesture was difficult and she was about to set him free, he embraced her again. Maybe it was tiredness, or maybe it was just an excuse, but he needed a friendly hug.

"Why are you hugging me?" he asked finally.

"What can I say? I'm an educated woman." She smiled. "The situation merited a courtesy."

Mary didn't remove her eyes from Sherlock's face.

"You broke your promise," she said without emotion. And he knew that she has hit the nail on his unspoken question.

That truth has been told.

His eyes were filled with so much pain that was almost tangible.

She shook her head in disagreement. "It's not your fault. God knows you're everywhere, but you still cannot stop someone from getting hurt. Accidents happen."

He was a disastrous fire that burned in his chest, devouring something he thought was devoid of his heart. For the first time in his life he felt like a fish out of the water that struggled to breathe, drowning endlessly. He never felt this pain, never in his life. He used to think of himself as an empty glass without feelings at all, but right now he was filled to the brim with terror, pain, regret, guilt…

_Guilty. He listened in his mind._

_Guilty. He felt the pang in his heart._

"She would not have gone that night if it wasn't for me, Mary." He ran a hand through his hair, trying to regain some control over the situation. "She almost died for me, for my stupid pride."

"No, no." She shook her head, and he was too relieved to question how it was possible for Mary to appear in his mental palace just to help him.

Mary's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Listen to me, you bloke. You are in no way guilty of what happened to Molly. She got hurt, that is the reality. But I am not allowing you to give up! Stop pitying yourself" She stated pointing his chest with one of her perfectly made nails. "You have a new opportunity to do well everything you did wrong. And dear Lord, was those are a lot of things."

Sherlock let out a sad smile. "You are relentless, Mary Watson. It is impossible to say not to you."

She smiled smugly. "Alright, I would not want to go back and have to kick your slim back. Mental Palace or not" She took a minute and then added. "Well, look, Sherlock, I suppose your package includes an eternal curse of being a toxic idiot, and the inability to have normal relationships. But it also includes an intelligent man, an emotional man, who has so much affection to give that he is sitting in the couch of his girlfriend's flat, asking for the help of his friend's wife, to win her back. Someone kind, someone brave, who is not afraid to die for those he loves. Someone who has a heart of gold. Someone who is becoming the best version of himself, every day that passes, just for her. That's all you have to remember, Sherlock Holmes."

He turned to look at her, a few tears escaping from his eyes, but she was already gone.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

Sherlock ran down the hall. He stopped three feet away from her and caught his breath.

Her silhouette shone between the dim light and the dark, and made her look like an ethereal angel.

An angel who brought light once into his life, but left leaving him alone in total darkness.

The angel who always overwhelmed him.

The angel turned around and smiled. A bright smile. One of those smiles Sherlock knew.

The smile spread across the angel´s face as he watched her. Her hair was wrapped in a ponytail, as usual, and she was wearing that tedious cherry print cardigan. He used to hate it. But now he smiled to the view.

He liked it. He liked her smile that brightens everything with her light.

He liked everything about her.

Over the years, she had become something that he wanted to have. She was like a Rubik's cube that he could not solve. He liked that about her. He could not help it. It was as if she were a magnet that his eyes were drawn.

She smiled again. Molly waited for him to stop panting. He did, lifting his head and simply gazing back at her, not saying anything.

"What have you been doing all this time?" Her voice tormented his sanity, threatening his heart like a bishop to the king in a great game of chess.

"Waiting for you," he whispered and she noticed how his beautiful blue eyes shone with an unusual tone.

"Something's wrong." Her words were soft. Full of worry that he did not want her to have. He did not seem to tarnish the sight of her in his mind.

He wanted to lie, but even lying to her here made him feel terribly wrong.

"It's my fault?" Molly asked without looking.

He knew that it was a topic that he had evaded only a few hours ago, but a part of his brain urged him to tell her the truth.

"No, it's not you. I just feel that you'll fade away and I do not want that. I do not want to think that I'm living a dream...

"Shh. Don't say that." Molly looked at him, her eyes bright as candles. And that sensation seized him, that flame that burned inside him the moment his angel's brown eyes fixed on him as if he were the most beautiful person on the planet. That flame burned his chest, made his skin rise to an impossibly high temperature. He did not respond, but his heart still beat rapidly.

"I'm here. I will not go anywhere, not without you." She took his hand.

He didn't say anything to that. Sometimes they don't need words. He'd never really been good at words anyway.

"Sherlock," she breathed. But he was not ready to talked about it.

"You always have me."

She stroked his hand with her fingertips. It was so gentle and soft. His mother used to do that to help him fall asleep.

No, wait. That was not true.

He could see it now. And it was all his own fault.

Sherlock felt his throat begin to constrict. "I'm so, so sorry," he said earnestly, seeking forgiveness in those eyes.

"I know."

Sherlock sighed. "I am sorry for being rude to you on many occasions." He blinked, and then scowled as if disappointed with himself. "I must admit that you have done nothing but treat me very well for years and I have repaid you by being a jerk".

Her gaze had a touch of comfort he did not expect, but he welcomed it anyway.

Molly was his lighthouse, and he was desperate to see her light again.

"Sherlock, I have loved you for about nine years. And for all that time, I knew that somewhere inside that cold, lifeless exterior, there had an actual human soul." She pointed to him for emphasis. "Uh-huh, and that once you were done pretending to be a jerk, you would eventually go off and show me the amazing man that I knew you were."

Molly, his perfect and beautiful pathologist took a deep breath. "You did. I saw you. The real you. I saw behind the detective. I saw the empty shell of the boy; the lonely, misunderstood teenager; the intelligent man who was only looking for answers. I fell for every part of him, every defect, every smile, every look, and every cruel grimace." She placed her free hand on his cheek, her touch a gentle feather's brush. "Because when you love someone, you love every part of them. You love the good and the bad, no matter what. I fell for you, Sherlock, I fell hard, and that means I love you. And I believe I always will do." Her words became velvety caresses that covered his heart. "Don´t be afraid. I have always thought we had this sort of connection. Unspoken, of course." Molly laughed. "I will see you. The real you. And I will love you forever."

It felt so good to have her back, like when he put the last piece of the puzzle in the right place and the image he tried so hard to build is complete.

He leaned his forehead against hers. His eyes looked close to storms, but he did not release her. He seemed reluctant to truly let her go.

"I love you, Molly Hooper," he whispered, and she noticed how his beautiful blue eyes shone with a unique tone.

"My mind was doing everything to erase you, for years, but it failed. You told me you loved me when I thought no one would, and I fell in love with you when you thought I never would. I could not love you the way you want me to, but that does not mean it's not love now."

She nodded, understanding his words. The fingers of her other hand were like wind in his hair, gently combing through the rebellious curls to calm him.

"Just not be so cruel this time. Please!"

"They've told you that you're very smart, Molly."

"Not recently, but I hope it serves your purpose."

"You fought for me all these years, now it's my turn to return the favour."

Her voice was soft, almost childish. "Well, if you don´t do it, I swear I'll be mad at you."

His eyes were full of determination just like his words. "I will not rest until you come back again. I swear I'll make you fall in love with me. And this time will be different."

She tickled his arms with her soft fingers. "I'll be very angry if you do not kiss me now."

He did not need to be told twice.

Her lips brushed against his slowly. The sensation of butterflies fluttering in her stomach built up gradually as Sherlock laid his hands on Molly's waist, drawing her towards him, kissing her lips softly, tracing them like glass. He would have to win her love in reality, but now he had it next to him and that was the only thing that mattered. The kiss was short, tender, when they opened their eyes, both were flushed with broken breaths.

Her smile widened considerably.

"You're doing very well," she encouraged.

Sherlock pulled her to him once more, placing a chaste kiss on her forehead.

He dared to close his eyes for the first time in her presence.

He felt content, complete.

It was a perfect time.

He just needed to do it in real life.

He was ready to repair his failures, to remove everything from his life that had ever hurt Molly. He knew that it was not easy, he knew he needed the time and trust to create new bonds with her. Bonds that would endure and become signs of affection.

He still had an uncomfortable fear. It was the fear of loss. It was the fear of falling headfirst into the game of love and losing. It was the fear of crying again, of wanting to laugh, and of lying while wanting to tell the truth.

But Sherlock was a man who loved risks. He was an adventurer who had lost everything, and who relied fully on his ability to create a good scheme. He did not act like he used to do, because he had matured. He had learned from his mistakes, and now he had an immense advantage: Molly's love finally belonged to him.

Until…

His meow very close to his ear and his scratches returned him to reality. Away from his mind palace, away from her.

Damn it.

His words were cold, angry. "I know a very large dog. I'll introduce you two one day".

Toby stopped scratching him. He gave Sherlock an overly complex look for a cat.

"I'm not kidding," he said. This only made the cat meow stronger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued...   
> If you take time to read, you please take the time to comment.   
> I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, I will gladly when posting.   
> Kisses and hugs.   
> PS: I invite you to read my other stories. Sherlolly


	5. Coming home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello...  
> Disclaimer: I don´t own Sherlock.

"It is awful." Exclaimed Mrs. Hudson in dismay. "Poor boy, I had never seen him like this." A pause filled the room. The blond man could only watch her expectantly, fearing her next words. "He's been cleaning, John." The woman whispered as she put her hands to her face, not believing what she was going to say. "Even he bought food."

There is an expression on John's face about which the woman is unable to place a word. She only saw him climbing the stairs hoping for the best.

John took a deep breath before opening the door and getting into what he was sure was the clear sign of madness being present in his best friend Sherlock Holmes.

The first thing he noticed was the smell that invaded his nostrils, it was not the classic mixture of mohin, dust, chemicals and decay. It was something else. Soft, delicious, it was the bottled forest, the spray of rain in the morning and the scent of roses mixed throughout the room.

John automatically felt strange.

The second thing he noticed was the absence of scientific experiments, human body parts, weapons, dust on the windows, furniture and excess of forensic material and crime scenes stuck to the walls.

Instead, John found a cozy, clean environment with everything in place and flowers. Yes flowers! The blonde was stunned (specifically lilies in the center of the dining room table).

John´s mouth fell open.

Sherlock was putting the different foods on the shelves and humming an old song.

Oh dear lord. This was worse, than he believed.

"What's going on?" John requested.

"Hello to you too, John." Sherlock said with a smile. "Why do you think something's going on?"

"The look on your face, and this place." he responded immediately. "You will do something, what is it?"

Sherlock responded with a skeptic’s lifted eyebrow.

"What did you do?" he asked as he kept watch him.

"Nothing .... It is just something I have to... uh...

"Sherlock ... stopped rambling and begins to explain to me why the hell happens. Why the hell is everything so clean?"

He left his task to sit in his chair, followed by John.

"After years of endless complaints and useless conversations, I have come to the conclusion that a cleaner environment can be beneficial for future projects."

 John didn't look twice at him. “I'm your friend, and I'm not buying you."

"It has been studied in recent scientific works that specific environments can promote the neuronal reacitvación allowing the subject to evoke old memories."He recited without blinking.

 “Now I’m totally lost,”. John blinked.  “I don’t understand.”

"You see but you do not observe." Sherlock shaked his head.  “It’s obvious, John.  Way back when all this started, the experiment. Molly Hooper living with me. The right environment will revoke her love for me and in conclusion her memories in the blink of an eye. "

The blonde man let out a shocked breath.  “You can’t be serious!, she has a flat, that is her right environment.”

A quick, light laugh escaped Sherlock’ lips.  “Too late for that. "He folded his arms childishly. "I already talked to her contractor. He has begun to demolish the flat. The remodeling will take at least six weeks."

John scowled fiercely at him for a moment, then sighed.  “You’re serious about this.”

 “You should be less surprised than you are by that, surely.”

John gave him a look. "I guess the old traditions never disappear completely." Yet he continued. "You realize that she may not want to come and live with you. That at some point Molly will find out that you're lying to her and she'll be very pissed. "

"That depends on how you define the lie. I define it as not telling the truth." Sherlock defended himself with a scowl.

“Mate… John began sadly.

His posture remained rigid but there was something in his eyes that told a different story.  “She will accept to come and live with me. And she will love me eventually. At least that’s what I’m betting on.” he said. “Temptation is the whole point of the exercise.” Sherlock retorted. 

John's lips twitched.

“Modesty is not your thing. “Jhon reminded him, and Sherlock laughed without humor.

 "I really do not think that's a good idea. You can not push her to remember Sherlock."

"Why shouldn´t I?" Sherlock demanded.

"She has many of her memories on her flat. You have to let her do it alone.” He said, noticing her gesture.

John could see the internal struggle passing in the eyes of his friend. John was right but Sherlock was determined,"Bugger. She´s hurt. And if I know Molly… she´s terrified but won´t admit it. "

"Sherlock." The blond man argued knowingly that his friend would not accept his words."Let her remember everything in her own terms."

"Duly noted, now bugger off." Sherlock growled back, leaving his friend alone in the room.

After watching him stomp out of the his chair he followed him to the kitchen. Sherlock moved his hands from side to side looking for his favorite tea. His jaw was stiff and his eyes screamed storm.

John wanted to make sure that he was okay. He knew that Mary would´ve wanted him to make sure that he was.

John noticed the situation, and approached his friend to pat his shoulder in sign of support. "Sherlock."

Sherlock turned toward his friend and shook his head. "I begged her, John. I begged her to come back to me and she did and I still lost her. How could I still lose her? After everything we´ve through she´s going to split thorough my fingers without even the memory of our time together. How is that fair? "

"You haven´t lose her yet. She´s still in there. You just have to reach her." John sounded hopeful.

"That´s why she will has to came to live with me."

John snorted resignedly. "In this world, there are many ways to love Sherlock, and the most beautiful you can find is the one where the other person is able to give until it hurts no matter if they will receive something in return, and she was able to do it. It´s just like the last time. You have to show her that you´re different."

Sherlock considered it for a painfully long moment before nodding.

Sooner or later she was going to learn what had happened over the last nine years, including the changes Sherlock had gone through; and he had to believe that she would swing around to him again, like she had the first time. She has to.

_Because there is no other option._

_He couln´t go on without her. He knew that._

 

 

* * *

 

 

She groaned as she shifted in her hospital bed. This paper thin gown they´d give her was scratching every inch of her skin. She just wanted to go her flat. A knock on her door shook her out of her thoughts. She quickly put on a brave mask as a nicely Dr. Hazel entered the room.

 "Good morning. Miss Hooper." He smiled. "How are you feeling today?"

Her answer was honest. "Still struggling to remember who all of these people are."

"Give it time, don´t rush anything. These things take time."

Molly pressed her lips together and the Dr. could see her struggling to remember the details that were missing, he soothingly touched her arm pullling her brown eyes to him. "Don´t forcé it, you will remember it all son enough. "

She sucked in a deep breath before exhaling."I wish I had your belief. "

The man was attentive enough to give her a friendly smile. I've seen a couple of cases like yours. Patience is the key to success Miss. Molly. He observed her again taking notes, later he spoke. "Also I have very good news. CT scan does not reveal patterns of malignancy or damage. Blood tests were normal. The only thing that will be kept for a couple of weeks is the ferula in your right hand. "

Her eyes opened in understanding. "That means that...

"You can return to your home, that will make your recovery much more enjoyable. " The Dr. concluded.

Molly wasn't sure what to feel. Part of her wanted to be alone in her flat, but the other part knew that if she allowed herself to be alone. She would be terrified.

Could she remember her life? Or would she be doomed to live without her memories?

She didn´t know the answer to any of those questions. But she'll find out soon enough.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When they entered the room, the change in atmosphere was evident.

She has this incredible smile on her face. John found himself smiling in return.

She burst into giggles as she sees them. "I´m going home."

"That´s a big development Molls" John said excited.

"Dr. Hazel says that will help me remember. And I never thought I would say something like that, but I do not like hospitals. Or at least not be patient in one of them."

Sherlock looked at her, something closed to confusion behind his eyes.

"What?"

"You can not go back to your flat."

Molly automatically crossed her shoulders giving him a look of confusion. "I do not think you can decide that. "

John was quick to respond before his best friend could even speak. "The thing is Molly that... a couple of weeks ago your flat suffered a problem, one of the walls collapsed. Nothing too serious. But the landlord decided that a change should be made. So it's under renovation for a few weeks."

The blond looked at Sherlock sideways. "Maybe a couple of months. "

The feeling of nervousness and fear seized her body quickly.

Molly tilted her head to the side, contemplating John´s words.

Oh…

That means she would be out of her life, her memories and everything that could help her focus on remembering.

The realisation made her feel a little sick.

"Don´t distress yourself, Molly. We collected enough of your personal items, clothes, and photos to help you remember. "Sherlock´s lips spread in a slow smile.  Heat rushed to Molly’s face."You can stay in my flat, John's old room is in perfect condition. And you had already decided to stay there."

He said in a tone that only betrayed his lie.

"I cant´s stay there." Molly protested automatically.  "Maybe a hotel."

Sherlock clenched his teeth. "Why must you always be so stubborn? Even when you lost your memory?"

“I barely know you.”

A muscle jerked in sherlock´s jaw, but when he spoke his voice was level,even soothing. "You do, and very well just, you don´t remeber it. "

"What if I stays with Greg?"

Sherlock winced. "I´m afraid that´s not an option. "

Perhaps he didn't understand the idea of wanting something and not getting it. And that's why he looked at her like this now, with a lopsided smile and excuses coming out of his beautiful, fleshy lips.

"Maybe we could alternate: one month in your flat, one month in a hotel."

She watched him carefully.  "No." He pronounced.

"You need somebody to look after you at least until that drug gets out of your system.” He huffed. She felt her chest tightened at his response. "So please listen to me, stay in Baker Street with me and let me… I mean us take care of you."

Molly struggled silently with herself, torn in a battle between her heart and her head. She wanted answers. She needed to know why her emotions were tossing her around as if she sat in a row boat on the sea in the middle of a hurricane when he was all around.

When he put it like that, it almost sense.

"All rifht. " She said at last. "For a couple of days, at least. "

"Deal." Sherlock smirked.

Molly would return to Baker Street with him.

And in a close and open eyes she would love him again.

How hard can it be?

Nothing could go wrong. Or so he thought.

Sadly, Sherlock would soon realize it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TBC...  
> If you take time to read, you please take the time to comment. Let me know what you think.   
> I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter.  
> I invite you to read my others stories.

**Author's Note:**

> Poor Sherlock... 
> 
> If you take the time to read, please take time to comment.  
> Feel free to let me know what you think. Questions, suggestions, opinions, anything goes.  
> I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter.  
> I invite you to read my other story: You, me, and my mom Think about it, Sherlock  
> Kisses and hugs.


End file.
